


Basket of Figs

by bookwormywriter



Series: Poetry of Your Body [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Nile, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, Collars, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Feminization, Kink Negotiation, Multi, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Psychic Bond, Rimming, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25719004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormywriter/pseuds/bookwormywriter
Summary: The group has some downtime and Nile reflects on love, trust and eternity.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Andy | Andromache/Booker | Sebastien/Nile Freeman/Joe | Yusuf/Nicky | Nicolo/Quynh | Noriko, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Everyone/Everyone, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nile Freeman/Quynh | Noriko
Series: Poetry of Your Body [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865476
Comments: 44
Kudos: 191





	Basket of Figs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CatastropheCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatastropheCat/gifts).



> Because, let's be real, no one in this group is straight or heteronormative. This whole thing takes place in a world where they never lost Quynh or Booker.
> 
> Thank you to Grey and Chris for beta'ing this for me. Thank you to the discord for helping and supporting. 
> 
> Also if you notice I didn't spot a tag, let me know.

The slide of the six of them into their newer life was easy. Nile settled precisely into an open space that the group hadn’t known it needed or missed. Nile brought a freshness, a fire, and took it all in with eagerness.

At first Nile had worried that she wouldn’t fit—that the group of them, the five, had known each other for years, decades, centuries, _millenia_ —but they made space for her without hesitation. Explained their world, her world now, with vigor and honesty. A kind of honesty and sincerity that Nile had forgotten the world knew. 

They all circled into each other’s orbits and out: a unique cycle of love and life and acceptance. They told her that they all loved each other—would love her if she allowed them. She’d feel them in the back of her mind, a constant comforting state of buzzing. A reminder of their presence. The proximity helped, they’d explained. Within ten feet was telepathic, a single touch an electrifying feedback loop. 

She’d taken it in stride. 

Within her first day she’d learned how they moved and killed. Within the first week she knew how they ate, slept and lived. 

She’d known about polyamory before the army, had a cousin who had two girlfriends, but this was a whole new dynamic of levels. A life and a series of relationships built on endless time. She accepted their hugs, kissed their cheeks and foreheads, and politely said thanks but no thanks, but it took years for her to warm up to the idea of a person.

Just because she didn’t want to participate didn’t mean she didn’t understand the aesthetic of it. Her new compatriots were all attractive in unique ways and the ways they fell and came together was beautiful. She was no stranger to nudity. To a cuddle. She ate that up with a hunger that she hadn’t realized she’d had, content to lay in a bed with five other people entwined with her. More than happy to admire and to watch Nicky or Andy or whomever felt like it that day off stretch out naked and comfortable. 

Those days, weeks, even years she supposed, between the heartbeats of work and war, were built for languishing. Save for her they were a group of people who thought of time not in minutes, or hours or days, but years and decades. All of their time was still precious and never wasted, it was to be enjoyed to the very last breath.

They were in Asilah to recuperate after a particularly long and harrowing series of fights involving a rather overzealous drug lord and three out of the six of them being unceremoniously mowed down by a rather unforgiving eighteen wheeler. Regrowing a leg from the hip down was not an experience Nile was keen to revisit any time soon.

The mid October heat was pleasant without being sticky, and the expansive house they were staying in was breezy and open to the sun and the wind. Joe had made breakfast, which meant that lunch, whenever it happened, was Andy’s job. Andy, who could cook with a surprisingly deft hand but rarely took the opportunity to do so because she liked to take her time. 

The amount of kinks and explorations that she’d learned of theirs, from witnessing, from stories, from flickers of memories in dreams, were breathtaking and astounding. She’d learned that for the most part they were versatile and lowkey, but sometimes when the itch rose up it was a satisfying thing to scratch. She’d also learned their hard limits pretty quickly: Nicky liked to be tied up or blindfolded, but never both at once; Joe liked to dote and serve and make his partner happy and also had an enjoyment for hair pulling and biting and even the occasional spank, but never liked to be restrained; Booker liked to be useful like Joe, but in a different kind of way, in a more directly submissive manner, but loathed being degraded or slapped; Andy lived for being worshipped and fucked hard, loved being used up and wrung out and put away wet but was never a fan of choking; and Quynh, well, Quynh was fearless and willing to try just about anything once. 

Lately, Booker had been exploring the edges of feminization with slow, delicate and clumsy presses. Fumbled his way through the request the first time, mouth pressed into Quynh’s neck and almost half-lost to his mumbling. The doting began from Joe and Nicky, both used to exploration of fashion, blurring the edges of the binary with their occasionally soft satin panties and stockings, with their smudged lipstick and kohl around their eyes. 

It had been Nile that Booker went to first, however, a bundle of exposed nerves and head ducking shyly, asking if she could paint his nails. The request had come so sincerely and so earnestly that Nile could hardly say no. She’d pulled out her nail art set and she and Booker had spent more than three hours searching for a design he’d liked. He’d finally decided on a seaglass green base and a seashell design on the thumbnail. 

When the other four returned after a long errand run to see them set up at the kitchen table, Booker’s shoulders tensed and Nile lifted the slim paintbrush from his finger in anticipation of him bolting. Instead one of Quynh’s hands smoothed along the line of Booker’s shoulder, up to his neck to cup the nape and give a gentle squeeze before peering over his shoulder to look at the colour. 

“Beautiful choice, Sébastien.” 

The sag of his shoulders as he leaned back into the chair against her full weight and his slight love drunk smile sent Nile’s heart reeling as she felt the slight feedback loop from where their fingers were brushing. The thrumming slow molasses warmth of heat and acceptance. 

Nile watched them for a long minute before placing the brush down. “I can do yours next, if you want.”

Quynh looked at her and nodded once, her eyes smiling. She dropped a kiss to the top of Booker’s head and moved her mouth to the shell of his ear speaking low where Nile was pretty sure that the praise and affirmation was going to cause Booker to burst a capillary in his cheek or something. It was cute.

The nail polish barely lasted three days with all the renovating they were doing, but the way Booker glowed would be worth it every time.

\----

It was still pretty early when Nile woke, used to the rigorous military schedule she had yet to shake. She extracted herself from the pile on the bed, adjusting the sleep shorts and shirt she’d worn that had gotten twisted up in the tangle of sleep, and stretched languidly, curling her toes against the wood floor, still slightly warm from the embers that had died from the fireplace. She headed to the kitchen, ready to start making breakfast, and paused at the sight of the lit red tri-wick candle placed in the middle of the table. Red on the kitchen table was a sign that one of the group, or more than one, was in the mood to play or in need of some TLC for the day. She craned her neck around for any sign of who left it before shrugging and starting to fill the kettle. 

She was halfway through blistering some tomatoes in a cast iron skillet when she heard someone walk into the kitchen and pause in the archway, she looked over her head to see Joe looking back at her with a sleepy smile, combing his hand through his hair as if attempting to tame it. 

“That you?” she asked, jutting her chin toward the candle. 

Joe shook his head and moved a hand to scratch at his stomach before unwadding the shirt in his hands and shrugging it on. “Do you need help?”

“Mm-mm, tea’s already made, bread is heating up, just finishing these and some scrambled eggs.”

“Eggs?” came Andy’s voice as she rounded into the kitchen, giving a grateful smile to Joe as he pressed the glass mug of steaming mint tea into her hands. “Mmm.”

Nile watched them, then turned back to the skillet and lifted out the tomatoes before streaming in the egg mix and stirring slowly as she removed the pan from the heat and set it on the center of the stove. “Eggs, bread, halloumi and tapenade, sorry it’s not super fancy.”

“It sounds wonderful, Nile. I’ll go get the others,” Joe offered, picking up the tea tray and heading off back to the bedroom. 

“Mm, is this the bread Nicky and Q made?” Andy asked around a piece of warmed bread, breaking it in half and letting the butter melt before sticking it, butter side down, onto her tongue with a moan. 

“Nah, the one Mrs. Basra gave us.”

“It’s really good, I love the char.” 

Nile tossed a smile over her shoulder at Andy before starting to spoon out plates. “Candle you?”

“Think it’s Book,” Andy commented, pausing to dig a nail into her teeth. “Maybe.”

“Mm.”

“You gonna stay?”

Nile rose her shoulders in a shrug. It depended. On who and what. She’d watched a few different combinations of them before, a low heat in her belly, but never participated. They watched her watching, never pushing her to join. A few times she’d excused herself to get off or shower, but for the most part if she did stick around she let all wash over her like a warm, comforting bath. 

She brightened when the rest of the group returned to the kitchen, the feel of them close calming them small itch in her nerves. She sets a plate on the table. 

“Morning.”

\---

Andy had been right, it was Booker who had called for the meeting. Said that he was itchy and restless under his skin and needed to not think for a while. 

”Is there any particular way you’d like to drop, my love?” Andy asked, hands pressing into Booker’s hair as he rolled the empty mug between his palms.

“I think I’d like to clean our weapons and for Nico to put my collar on me?”

Nicky smiled fondly, leaned against the solid weight of Booker’s shoulder and dropped a kiss just below his ear. “I’d be honored. Do you want any particular title today?”

Booker’s head tipped to the side to nuzzle into Nicky. “Not sure, just wanna drift for a while.”

Nicky hummed quietly and dropped another kiss to Booker’s neck and then another to his shoulder. “Go get yourself comfortable and get your collar, we’ll join you with our things shortly.”

The room Booker had chosen for them to retire and seclude themselves in faced the riyad, the sun slanting in through the intricate lattice work over the window arches making the room seem dreamy and intimate. It was filled with low couches and cushions, places to recline onto bedrolls and sink into the plushness of the pillows. He’d changed from his pajamas into a simple oversized shirt, stretched out from being well worn, and a set of blue-grey briefs. He seemed to have showered and shaved as well, the usual stubble clear from his face, and hair slightly damp and curling over his forehead. 

The others took their time—their endless time. Bathed themselves, changed into whatever felt comfortable, and gathered their weapons. 

Nile was first in, dressed comfortably in a new full pajama set and slippers. She carefully set her combat knife and her M27 down along with Booker’s own UMP on the sheet Booker had rolled out in front of him that had all necessary supplies for disassembling, inspecting, cleaning and maintaining each of their weapons. She paused by him to thread her fingers in his hair and give him a smile before moving to perch on a pile of cushions with a series of books, notebooks and pens.

Andy and Quynh came in second, Andy’s SP-21 Barak and labrys being placed on the sheet along with Quynh’s bow and Glock. The two of them were dressed in relative comfort: Andy in a tank top and jeans and Quynh in a breezy dress. They settled close to Booker but not oppressively so.

Joe came in with both his scimitar and Nicky’s longsword, laying them on the sheet before reclining himself across from Booker to no doubt watch him over the pages of his sketchbook. Joe was dressed, or barely dressed, in a pair of worn sweats. 

Nicky finally joined them after, what in Booker’s opinion, felt too long. The argument or complaint died on his tongue at the sight of Nicky in gauzy silk pants, almost sky blue. Booker watched with dark eyes as Nicky laid his own Remington MSR and Joe’s FABARM FP6 on the sheet and then stepped to the side, looking down at Booker with a contented serenity.

Booker slid over to settle in front of Nicky on his knees, hands cupped under the warm dark wood case that contained his collar and presented it up to Nicky with a look that could only be described as devotion. Nicky lifted the honey brown leather collar, interior lined with soft rabbit fur, and cupped a hand under Booker’s chin to lift his gaze and expose the long line of his neck. Rubbing his thumb along the tendon, Nicky slowly moved to buckle the collar around Booker’s throat and smiled, warm and easy, at the way Booker’s eyes lidded and the tension in his shoulders dissolved. Booker pressed his cheek to Nicky’s hip, nuzzling gently in thanks before pulling away, stilling when Nicky placed a hand on either of his shoulders and stooped down to kiss him slowly and sweetly.

Nicky moved to settle with Joe, reclining into a pile of pillows, drawing Joe against him. Joe settled with his head on Nicky’s thigh, watching absently for a moment while Nicky set up to work on a piece of intricate floral embroidery he was working on, before his eyes flicked back to his sketch. 

They settled in like this, music from the radio turned on low and not much other sound save for breathing and the methodical disassembly of guns as Booker worked. 

Nile let herself drift into her work; she’d been doing online courses and was working on finishing up the last of her readings. She let the haze of thoughts drift in and out of her mind unhindered by the walls they usually put up when they’re working. Her mind flickered with it, untrained like the others, peaks and valleys. Booker’s mind was a low hum of contentment at the moment, Andy’s a hot flash of pride and heat while Quynh’s a low simmer, Joe had a multitude of thoughts—many of them salacious—and Nicky had a similar contentment as Booker, bone deep. It settled into her gut like a warm drink, spreading out into her body and relaxing phantom aches. 

Currently Joe had his mind occupied with a half-glance toward his sketch of Quynh from long ago, stretched out in firelight and damp with sweat, and the hard want to bring Booker apart under his hands—something Nicky seemed content to feed into, sending unhurried thoughts out in flashes like lightning. The image of Booker in a corset had Nile giving a mental ‘like’ vote and she grinned around the pencil held between her teeth when Nicky shot her back a feeling of warm amusement and mental laughter. 

They were beautiful. 

_”You’re beautiful, too.”_ It’s Quynh’s voice, solid and sure, in her mind. _“Even if you do no more than watch, protect and admire, you’re a part of us, and we you.”_ Well, Nile couldn’t help but blush at such flattering words, sending a bit of a scowl toward Nicky when he chuckled. 

Booker worked with a methodical, precise reverence and deliberateness. His actions were sure and unhurried. He took each gun apart piece by piece, inspected it, cleaned it, oiled it, and then reassembled it. Took to the blades with care, examining them for chipping, rubbed them with oil and worked them with a whetstone. He removed the frayed leather of the grip on Andy’s labrys, replaced it with fresh leather and tacking. Unstrung Quynh's bow and restrung it with a new, tense bowstring, removed the wrappings from the arms of the bow and cleaned it, wrapping it in fresh wraps. By the time he’d finished, there was a satisfaction rolling off of him and into the bond that was palpable. 

Andy stood as the last weapon was placed on the sheet and moved to Booker, smoothing her hands over his back and up over his shoulders, rubbing at the muscles. “Good job.” She pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. “I love the new wraps for Quynh and I, the red stands out on the black of my labrys and the soft jade looks lush on the wood. Thank you for making them not only deadly but beautiful.”

“Like the two of you,” Booker responded. 

Andy’s mouth curled into a smile and she nodded, hand turning Booker’s chin to press a kiss to his mouth. When they parted she rested their foreheads together. “I’m going to put these away, would you like me to get anything for you while I’m up?”

Booker opened his mouth, no doubt to refuse, before nodding once. “Some water, and maybe the gift you and Quynh got me?” 

Andy nodded, patting his shoulder as she stood, gathered the assortment of weapons and the sheet and walked off. She returned shortly with a bottle of water in one hand and a small lacquered wood case in the other, both of which she set by Booker and sunk into the cushions next to him. Booker swallowed down the water in a few gulps, sighing at the satisfaction of the cold refreshment. His eyes flicked to the box, hands curled into his lap in uncertainty. 

“Do you want help picking?” Quynh asked, moving to his opposite side when she felt his hesitation. “You don’t need to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to! I just…” Booker swallowed and sucked in a breath. “I’m nervous.” 

Quynh rested her cheek against his shoulder and interlinked their fingers, thumb brushing over the back of his hand. She knew how hard it could be to break through the mental barriers of society’s expectations. Most of them had been doing it for years, but that didn’t mean that each step wasn’t terrifying sometimes. “You’re going to look beautiful. I can swear on my honor that unless you wish it no one will ever be allowed to see you like we do. Will think less of you for this.”

Booker let out a rush of air and rested against her, squeezing her hand. “Thank you.”

She kissed the top of his head, over his cheeks, and smiled at him. “Anytime, pet. Do you want me to pick for you?”

Booker nodded again, tension slowly seeping back out of him. “Yes, please.”

Quynh picked up the box and removed the lid on the box and examined the small array of colored pots before selecting a deep fuschia color. She lifted it out along with the brush and then set the box back down carefully. She opened the pot of lacquer and shifted her position a bit to focus wholly on Booker. “Eyes closed, head tilted up a bit, please.”

Booker complied, relaxing back into Andy’s arms and against her chest as she wrapped her arms around his middle, knowing she could take his weight. Quynh dipped the brush into the pot and gently grasped Booker’s chin with one hand before beginning to paint his lips in sure strokes. The color she’d chosen was a purposeful, but warm, contrast from his skin. It made him look debauched and enticing. Not as much as a pure red would, but it brought out the sinfully wondrous slope of his mouth, making him utterly kissable. 

She delicately blotted with a piece of silk in the case and smoothed her hand over his cheek when she was done. “I know I’m not as poetic as Yusuf, but I’d say you look stunning.”

Booker’s eyelids fluttered open, a flush high in his cheeks and his eyes dark. “Oh?”

He let his head be guided back further onto Andy’s chest, eyes tracing the line of her face as she took him in. Her hands around him tightened, gripped hard to his hips and he felt the frisson of liquid hot _want_ flow through her. It was almost enough to make him dizzy.

“Oh.” Was all he managed.

Andy’s mouth was on his, hot and claiming, and his head swam, he reached up to clutch at her. The heat and press of her almost smothering. When she pulled away he heaved with breath, shocks running through his nerves.

“Don’t ruin all of Quynh’s hard work.” 

Andy pinched his hip. “You look delicious. We’re going to ruin you, I hope you know that.” She ran her hand down his torso to grab the hem of his shirt and push her hands under. 

“Mind if I join in on that spoiling?” Joe asked, lifting his head from Nicky’s thigh. 

Booker shook his head, outstretched a hand toward Joe who moved the short gap between them and took both of Booker’s cheeks in his hands and gave him a firm kiss. Booker melted under him, sank into the heat of Andy and gave a quiet moan, one hand moving from Andy’s thigh to grab at Joe’s wrist. The spike of heat that ran up his spine at the contact, at the lust running hot through Joe.

Joe pulled back, panting softly, and quirked his lips up. “All ours to spoil and enjoy.” His thumb traced the line of Booker’s jaw and chin. “Can I call you ‘princess’?”

Air rushed from Booker’s lungs and he flailed, let out a reedy whine as the last semblance of self-control snapped. He nodded, slowly at first, then more and more fervently as the title worked deeper into his brain. Joe’s smile was utterly besotted. 

“Relax against Andromache, let me take care of you.”

Booker let himself sink deeper, if possible, into Andy’s arms and went slack. One of her arms wrapped around his stomach while the other moved to pet through his hair as her lips pressed to the shell of his ear whispering all the things she wanted to do to him,wanted to see done to him.

“We’re going to take good care of you, pet. What’s your safeword if you need to tap out?”

“Bonaparte,” Booker murmured. “Or two fingers curled and uncurled twice if my mouth is full.”

Andy stroked her thumb along the line of his collar, smiling into his hair. “Good girl.”

Joe settled easily onto his stomach between the vee of Booker’s legs and peeled his briefs down, turned to Quynh next to him, and pressed a kiss to the expanse of her shoulder. “You did beautiful work.” 

Quynh preened. “I know. Enjoy yourself, I’m going to get some things.” She stood, stepping around Joe. “Nicolò, would you like anything while I’m up?”

“Some of the figs would be nice.”

Quynh nodded and turned her eyes toward Nile, who was watching the unfolding proceedings with a fondness. “Anything for you?” 

Nile lifted her brows. “I think I’m good for now. Thanks, though.”

Nile watched as Quynh walked away before lazily returning her attention to the book she was reading, watching Joe sink between Booker’s legs. 

With Andy’s help, Joe had repositioned Booker as he wanted, propped against Andy’s now bare chest with pillows under his hips, canting them up in something akin to presentation. Joe pressed an openmouthed kiss to Booker’s hip, curling his fingers around Booker’s thighs. “Ready, princess?”

Booker moaned, nodded shakily and moved to gently pat at Joe’s hair. “God, yes.”

Giving a wolfish grin and laughing, Joe hauled Booker’s thighs up against the flat planes of his chest and pressed his mouth, hot and lewd, to Booker’s hole. Booker went tense for half a beat before letting out a strangled sob. Joe hummed and continued with fervor. 

“He’s good with his mouth, isn’t he?” Nicky’s voice came quietly.

Booker turned his head, lifting it slightly to look toward Nicky, who had made himself comfortable on his stomach, watching the proceedings with fever bright eyes and rapt attention. Booker felt himself squirm under the focus and arch his back a bit when Joe’s tongue pressed in, wanting Nicky to see and enjoy himself. Nicky’s eyes flicked up to his face and then back to Joe.

“An utterly lascivious mouth, and he’s going to make you come apart with it.” Nicky’s eyes were fierce, his focus unrelenting. “Don’t hold your noises back, Yusuf loves to know how good of a job he’s doing.”

And what job it was. Booker’s eyes rolled back into his head as Joe fucked into his body with his tongue, dragging up the crease to nose at his perineum and sac. Booker’s hand twisted into Joe’s hair to tug slightly when Joe pulled himself back slightly to examine his handiwork. He held Booker open with his thumbs and looked along the long line of his body. 

“Decadent,” Joe breathed, dragging his lips and tongue along Booker’s thigh. “Your cunt is delicious, pretty girl.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Andy hissed against his ear, nails scraping along his belly as she shifted. He heard the zipper of her jeans and the jostle of her solid form as she shoved her other hand into her pants. 

“Andromache, use me, let me use my mouth.”

“After, sweetheart, enjoy Yusuf’s mouth.”

The words switched his focus slightly and god the _sounds_ that Joe was making. Ravenous, hungry grunts and sucking sounds. The press of his thumb alongside his tongue; the torturous rub of his beard against Booker’s thighs and ass. Booker gulped in air and felt his body shake, ankles hooked around Joe’s shoulders as he was bent double at the waist in Andy’s lap as Joe relentlessly pressed against him.

A broken moan left him and Booker flailed out his empty arm for purchase. Fingers linked his own and he looked to Nicky, still watching with laser focus. Booker felt awash with the attention. Spoiled. Nicky’s mouth curled up and his head inclined slightly and Booker was subsumed by the torrent of affection and love Nicky unleashed on him. 

Nicky’s other hand reached out and he brushed the line of Booker’s cock with his knuckles. Booker’s body rolled with the sensation. “Bellissima.”

“Nicky,” Booker keened. “S’il vous plaît.” 

Nicky hummed, drew his hand back a moment and then licked a line up his palm before closing his fist around the head of Booker’s cock. Booker sighed with satisfaction, hips trying to rabbit toward the sensation but he was bracketed with one of Andy’s arms and Joe’s hands. Booker sobbed, squeezing Nicky’s fingers as if they were the only thing anchoring him in place in the sea of sensation. 

Nicky moved his hand at an unhurried pace in opposition to Joe’s relentlessness, and Booker wanted to cry. He let out a weak pleading noise, not even sure of what he was asking for but trusting his lovers to know. Nicky made a contemplative humming noise and then leaned down to whisper in Joe’s ear. The action had Joe slowing, dragging his tongue one final time over Booker’s hole and then back, his shoulders relaxed and smiled smugly. 

Booker’s brows knitted up and he opened his mouth but Nicky laid a finger across his lips. “We’re going to let Andy take care of you.”

Oh. Oh that sounded delightful. Booker sucked in a breath, turning his head to look up at Andy. “Please.”

Andy smiled at him and patted his cheek. “Want me to fuck you open?”

Booker nodded. “Yes, yes, yes.”

With the coaxing hands of the others Booker sat and let his shirt be lifted over his head. The pause let him catch his breath, he took the sliced fig pressed into his lips by Nicky and the cold water. His eyes swept the room as Andy stood behind him, pushing her jeans and underwear down and kicking it aside. Quynh was watching from close by, the same furious attention that Nicky had in her eyes. The hem of her skirt was hitched slightly and Booker saw the familiar case of her jade egg near her hip. 

Andy stepped into her harness and took a moment to examine the few dildos that Quynh had brought. Most of them would work suitably for Booker, who enjoyed girth more than length. She selected a fat cock with a curve and fastened it to the ring before adjusting the straps of her harness. 

“Hands and knees, pet.”

Booker took one final sip from the bottle and a kiss from both Joe and Nicky before turning onto his front, draping himself over the pile of cushions. He watched Joe cross to Quynh and drop his head to her thigh, letting her tug his hair and steer his face under her dress. Nicky resumed his position on his stomach, laying his head on his folded arms to watch Booker with an adoring smile. 

Andy’s hands were firm and sure as they moved up the line of his back and then gripped his shoulders, coaxing him back slightly toward her body. The toy was warm with body heat and slick with lube and Booker pressed his face into the cushions as Andy started to sink in. His eyes crossed slightly when she rested, their hips flush, and he realized the toy was the perfect length to just rub against his prostate without being insistent. The moan that fell from his lips was entirely unbidden. 

Andy gave him a moment to gather himself before she started to fuck into him, quick and sharp. If he hadn’t had the support of the cushions Booker knew he’d be chest and face flat to the bed. 

“You’re so damn beautiful, Book. Wrecked.” She panted against his ear, biting at the lobe. “So pretty and all ours.”

Booker nodded his head, rubbing his cheek to the soft material of the cushion. “Yours.” 

Andy’s grip on his hips was bruising in the best manner possible and the slap of her body into his was causing his mind to narrow to the sensation. She stretched him open pleasantly wide, enough to feel the ache of it without it being unpleasant. He jolted forward when her hips angled and she pressed against his prostate, his back arching up into her and had him scrambling and pleading for more in a mixture of languages. 

“Touch yourself, honey,” came Andy’s voice into the fog of his mind. Sweet and sinful. “Make yourself come on my cock, baby girl.”

Booker reached under himself and stroked up and down the length of his cock once, enjoying the slide of the foreskin back and forth over the head in a slow drag, before releasing his inhibition. He was racing toward his orgasm, the pounding in his veins, the rush of it, made him feel almost crazy. He had the constant feedback of hot-wet-tight from his hand and the solid press of Andy as well as the fullness of her side of the toy in her own body. 

“‘M gonna come,” he slurred, face pressed into the cushion. He let out a sharp cry as he was pulled up by the shoulders onto his knees, held in place and presented by Andy as she pounded into him. 

His head lolled back against her shoulder, his breathing ragged. His body felt like it was on fire. It felt like he was fucking her and himself at the same time as the feedback loop between them narrowed tighter and tighter, until they were practically one lustful being striving for release. 

His orgasm knocked the wind from him and he gave a hoarse cry as he came, body shaking and rocking as Andy fucked up into him a few more times before she collapsed over his back and the two of them fell forward onto the pillow of the cushions in a fucked out heap. Booker sucked in a few breaths, letting his arm be pulled by Nicky who sucked and licked his fingers clean.

“Good?” Nicky asked when his tongue had finished lapping at Booker’s fingers. 

“Mmm,” Booker nodded, feeling Andy adjust. She withdrew, petting his hip in soft circles when he hissed, and cleaned him with a warm cloth before twisting a plug into him. 

He felt wrung out and well used. He rose a brow in askance toward Nicky, nodding when Nicky shook his head before settling back onto the cushions. 

Quynh’s cry of orgasm drew his eyes over and he watched as she bowed up, toes curling and one fist thumping into the cushions as Joe worked her through her climax, his own furiously working hand in his pants stilling as his own shoulders tensed and then released. Quynh relaxed into the pillows and Joe returned from under her skirt, dragging his forearm across his mouth and pressing his mouth to Quynh’s. She patted his cheek affectionately and murmured something to him before they moved to the group. 

“Need me to do something, my heart?” Joe asked, pressing a series of kisses up the line of Nicky’s back as he settled in. 

“No, thank you, beloved. Watching Sébastien enjoy his pleasure was enough.” 

Booker let out a slow breath, reaching for Nicky with clumsy fingers and pulling his laughing mouth into a kiss. That had explained why Nicky had remained on his front, no doubt rutting himself off on the silk of his trousers and the pressure. The fact that he’d done that alone was flattering. 

“Lay with us, Nile?” Quynh requested.

Nile gave an acknowledging hum and closed her book, setting everything aside and moving to the tangle of limbs. She was welcomed in easily, sliding to press her head to Quynh’s hip and tangle her legs with Joe’s. In the knot of them she swam in contentment, the low fire in her belly pleasant without an ache, and let herself drift on the high of their love.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, this is probably going to be part of a longer series of works where I explore various aspects and facets of the polycule.
> 
> Title comes from [this poem](https://poets.org/poem/basket-figs) by Ellen Bass.
> 
> I have a tumblr [here](https://a-little-bit-of-ultra-violence.tumblr.com) and a twitter @bookwormywriter where you can contact me and flail. You can also send me prompts. _please_
> 
> You can also hit me up on the new fan discord [here](https://discord.gg/DwKHcym). We'd love to have you.
> 
> Also please leave a comment if you can; they really keep me motivated!


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